Brothers in Life, Death, and Beyond
by Colt401
Summary: One of them has to die. Dean won't stand for it. But Sam has other ideas. A headcanon for how the show will end. Warnings: major character death and suicide. Potential spoilers? This includes some elements of S13E5, so if you haven't watched up to there, be warned.


**Hi there. I'm new to the SPN fandom, but it's honestly such an amazing show that I had to try and write** ** _something_** **for it.**

 **This is just my own personal headcanon of how the show ends, so feel free to like... disagree with me.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own them! Kinda wish I did though...**

* * *

"Only one of you can leave here alive. One of you has to kill the other," God said. Dean spluttered and spread his hands imploringly.

"You've got to be kidding, right? You can't do this to us, not after everything we've done for you, you bastard!"

"Dean…"

" _You can't do this to us!_ " the oldest Winchester screamed. What had been initially been disbelief in his voice had transformed into rage and despair. Sam looked sadly at his brother.

"Dean…" he began.

"Shut up, Sammy. There's no way one of us is dying. I'm not gonna let that happen."

"I'm sorry it has to happen like this. Believe me, if there was another way, I would have already done it. But this cannot be avoided, Dean. I'm sorry. The ritual requires a life and it won't work without it."

"You can take your sorry and you can shove it where the sun don't shine! Find another ritual! One that doesn't require a sacrifice!"

Sam sighed and briefly met the gaze of God. They both knew that there was no other alternative. He smiled sadly at God. The deity's eyes widened minutely before he schooled his features into a stony look. Only his eyes betrayed his sorrow.

Two knives appeared at their feet. Sam slowly picked it up before advancing on his brother. Betrayal briefly flashed across Dean's face.

"Sam?" he asked, tone laced with confusion.

"I'm sorry about this, Dean."

* * *

Dean had been fighting defensively, not daring to attack. He had picked up his knife after Sam had initially charged at him, fighting against every instinct he had that was screaming to attack, to pin his brother down and subdue him. He was sure Sam could see it in his face too.

He leapt back again as Sam snarled and swiped at him with the knife. Dean watched his brother painfully. His weight shifted again as every muscle in his body moved to attack, only sheer will holding him back.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam taunted. "Scared to hurt me? Or are you too weak to even try?"

"Sam…" Dean pleaded. He had an idea of what his brother was doing, but it wasn't going to work. Dean would not be swayed into hurting his brother.

"Come on. Isn't this what dad trained you for? Killing things? His good little soldier, just following his every order. You never thought for yourself, Dean, why are you starting now?"

Dean closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Sam's words cut deep, and it was an echo of what his brother had said when under the influence of back at Roosevelt Asylum.

It also wasn't anything he hadn't thought before.

"I mean seriously, Dean. I don't need someone who can't think for themselves. Sure, you're good at hunting, but so are a whole bunch of others. I don't _need_ you, Dean. Not like you need me."

And if that didn't gut him, Dean didn't know what did.

Ever since the night Sam had left for Stanford, the thought had been floating in his mind: that his family didn't hold him in as high a regard as he did them. Hearing it from the yellow eyed demon had stung; hearing it from Sam was devastating.

"I never should have come back. I should've turned you away at the door. Jess would still be alive. Dad would still be alive. _So many people_ would still be alive, Dean. And whose fault is it that they aren't?"

Dean looked to the floor, his heart breaking, as his little brother uttered the words that would shatter him.

"And you know what? You know you'll never be free of them. How do you even live with yourself?"

Dean screamed, lost in the haze of betrayal, hurt, and confusion. In a moment of madness, he pulled his arm back and drove the knife forward, not seeing anyone in front of him but the enemy. He only had a split second to notice the tranquil expression on Sam's face before the dawning horror settled in his stomach.

He felt the soft _shink_ of the knife sink into Sam's flesh.

He felt the wet puddle beginning to form on his brother's abdomen.

But most of all, he felt the crushing realisation of what he had just done.

Sam groaned as his knees went weak, sending him pitching towards the floor. He had expected to be met with cold stone, only to find himself being lowered to the ground gently by his heartbroken brother. Dean cradled him carefully in his arms, tears streaming down his face and a grief-stricken look in his green eyes. His older brother clutched his hand and brought it to his chest, his grip like iron and the only thing grounding Sam to reality.

"You're a goddamn idiot! You should've dodged! Why?!" Dean shouted.

"It's better this way, Dean," Sam rasped, blood dripping lazily out of his mouth. With what little strength he could muster, he cupped Dean's face with his hand. "Don't cry. This was my choice. My blood isn't on your hands."

"Don't be stupid, Sammy. You're gonna be just fine. You hear me? Just fine."

"Dean…"

"Shut up, Sam. You'll be fine."

Sam smiled sadly. He could feel himself fading. Lifting his head, squeezed Dean's hand in his weakly. "I want you to be happy, ok Dean? Live the life you never got to because of hunting. I know you want a family."

"Sammy, _you're_ my family. I can't be happy without you, man."

Sam smiled as he coughed, crimson spilling from his lips. "Promise me you'll try."

" _Sam…_ "

"Promise me, Dean."

"…Ok, Sammy."

Sam smiled one last time at his brother before allowing himself to sink into the darkness that beckoned him.

Peace at last.

* * *

Dean felt it when Sam left. The dead weight that his brother had become. The lack of breathing. The still growing pool of blood.

"...Sam? Sam, can you hear me?" he asked desperately, gripping his brother's arms tight. Wake up... This isn't funny. You can't go like this." He laughed as he cupped Sam's face with both hands, gently maneuvering his brother's limp face to meet his own. "I can't… I can't do this alone. Come on man, you gotta wake up."

Silence. Dean let out a sob. "Sam... Please. I-I'll do whatever you want. Just please... Don't let me be the one to kill you."

 _My story began when I killed my brother and that's when your story will inevitably end._

 _No no no nononoNONONONONO_

Dean bowed his head to Sam's chest and screamed.

* * *

When he looked back up, God was watching him with a pitying expression.

"The ritual is done, Dean. The threat is gone. You can go bury Sam now."

"Fix this! Bring him back!" Dean demanded, his voice hoarse.

"Dean…" God began.

"Bring him back!"

"I can't, Dean."

"Why not?!"

"Death is keeping Sam dead. She won't release his soul just because I ask for it. Even I need to defer to Death."

Dean clenched his fists before releasing them and picking up his brother's body.

"Then I guess I have to go find Billie."

* * *

Finding Billie was the easy part.

Bargaining with her was what made things difficult.

"No," Billie said, arms crossed.

"You can take me instead! I should've died a long time ago. Take me and bring Sam back!"

"I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?" Dean challenged.

"Does it matter? Sam is dead and you're still here. I won't disturb the natural order just because you can't live without your brother."

"You once said I had a job to do. Well I can't do it without Sam!"

"And your job is done. The threat is gone, and Sam is at peace. All that's left is for you to find yours."

And with a whoosh, Death was gone.

* * *

Dean rubbed his face with his hand, struggling to come to terms with the new reality he found himself in. His whole life, his brother had been there, giving him purpose, a _reason_ to be alive, and now…

Now he was gone.

 _Take care of your brother, Dean._

Yeah, he sure did a great job of that.

His one job in life… and he had failed.

And not only failed. _He_ had been the one to end Sam's life. Not some demon, or ghoul, or werewolf.

 _Him._

Sam's _brother_.

His flesh and blood.

Dean slid to the floor, elbows on his knees, and hands laced together in front of him.

"Sammy…" he whispered, voice cracking with emotion.

"I can't do this alone, man…"

* * *

He tried. He really did. For a whole year, Dean tried his best at a normal life.

A safe life.

The life Sam had wanted.

But while he had managed to find a job to keep him occupied during the day, it was at night that his demons found him, tearing at him, and swallowing him in nightmares and despair. He drowned his grief in liquor and sex, aching for the blur of the memories and the warm touch of a body nearby.

But nothing could fill the Sam shaped hole in his heart.

Dean shut the door of the apartment he now lived in. Just a year ago, he never would've imagined this could be his reality, and yet there it was, staring him cruelly in the face.

Living without his brother was living a never-ending nightmare.

He sat down numbly on his bed and took notice of the gun lying innocently on the nightstand next to him. Sam's gun.

A reminder of the brother he once had.

A reminder that never failed to bring him to tears.

Dean gingerly picked the gun up, letting his fingers run over the gleaming metal. Every night, he would pick the gun up, thinking about ending it all.

He was tired.

So very tired.

Maybe tonight was the night.

Maybe peace would find him if he could find Sam.

"I tried, Sammy. I really did. I found a job, I have an apartment, hell I even paid my taxes. But none of it means anything without you here. I can't do it, Sammy." Closing his eyes, he brought the gun to his temple. "So I'm sorry, Sammy. You'll be seeing me a lot sooner than you'd probably hoped."

And fired.

 _Thump._

* * *

The burial was quick. Not many attended the funeral; they never really knew the poor man who always looked as if his entire world had crumbled away. But the ones who had known him knew that he had wanted to be buried next to his brother.

As the dirt filled the hole in the ground, they turned back and observed the two gravestones. Side by side, in a small lot, the inscriptions read,

 _Dean Winchester_

 _A man who had too much weighing on his soul_

 _Sam Winchester_

 _Brother in life, death, and beyond_

* * *

 **That's a wrap, folks. Honestly, I'm not too sure about my characterization here. I'd love some feedback :)**


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